The Tin Soldier
by Mark Ash
Summary: Can cold metal feel compassion? Could a mechanical killer learn to value human life? This is a story about Billy and Teddy, but with a few twists. Terminator/Young Avengers crossover.
1. Predestination

It was a cold, still night; unusually so for August, even in Massachusetts. The pine trees were eerily silent, only whispering when an errant breeze disturbed their branches, carrying with it their strong, rich scent. The moon was just starting to wane, and its light fell unimpeded through the dark, cloudless sky, casting stark shadows on the forest floor and reflecting in gentle ripples from the nearby pond.

A scuffling noise emerged from the nearby trees as a raccoon made its way across the wet ground. Its attempt to move quietly notwithstanding, the veil of silence retreated from the boorish intruder, leaving a conspicuous rift. Conscious of this the animal moved swiftly and nervously, its eyes darting here and there with obvious apprehension.

Suddenly, as it was about to step onto the empty bank, the creature froze. No new sounds penetrated the darkness, nor any visible disturbance, but the raccoon could sense that something was wrong. If someone had asked (and it could answer), it might have mentioned a strange metallic taste, almost below conscious perception, which lingered offensively on its tongue like the aftertaste of a brass coin. It sniffed delicately, sensitive whiskers feeling a fresh draft. The night air, once still and clear, was now filled with gentle eddies and currents flowing strangely and unpredictably. Spooked, the raccoon darted away noisily before the first blue spark shimmered to life behind it.

Bright sparks now illuminated the once tranquil shore, gathering intensity, quickly growing to form arcing bolts of lightning which grounded noisily in the wet sand. Moisture hissed as it evaporated into steam, the air seething with sound and electricity; a stray bolt struck an outstretched branch, which exploded with a loud _crack_ into flames. The air, once redolent of pine and algae, was contaminated by the smells of smoke and ozone.

In the centre of this maelstrom grew a dark, shining mass, smooth and spherical, increasing rapidly in size until it was nearly four feet in diameter. The lightning diminished, fading away as quickly as it had started, while the sphere dulled to a steely grey. It remained for only a second before cracks appeared on its surface, the structure swiftly dissipating into nothing. The ground where it once lay was now glowing red hot, inducing yet more steam to make its sibilant escape from the once damp sand. There, lit by the glowing sand, the luminous moon and the flickering flames of the burning branch, a pale human shape remained — still, curled into a foetal position.

Slowly, smoothly, the figure rose to its feet.

o—O—o

Teddy surveyed the landscape, casting blue eyes over the rippling water and inscrutable trees. The fire ignited by his arrival was spitting and dying, the damp wood unable to sustain combustion. As the noise diminished in volume, silence began to reassert itself on the pale, moonlit shore.

Sensing that the vast pond lay to his north, the boy quickly got his bearings. Route 93 would lie to the east, winding on south towards Boston; knowing that the surrounding terrain would be wet and marshy in places, he stepped out of the sizzling crater and set off in that direction, moving gracefully through the trees. As he flitted in and out of shadow, his progress could be seen only by glimpses of moonlight gleaming on his naked skin, sparkling briefly whenever it fell on his blond hair. Tall, lithe and purposeful, he ran through the wet undergrowth with uncanny assurance, not once tripping or colliding with anything in the darkness. His eyes glowed softly with a blue-green light, vigilant for any obstacles which could impede his progress. Soon enough he could see the lights of the highway, confirming that he had selected an optimal vector of approach. As he got closer he adjusted his course, following the road's passage south to Boston.

Boston, where his target was soon to arrive. Boston, where he would locate _William_…

* * *

_This is the first instalment of a story which will probably span several chapters. Although I was spurred to start writing by the arrival of the "Sarah Connor Chronicles" series, I actually had the idea much earlier, soon after I finished reading the first season of YA ("Sidekicks"). I'd be interested to see what people think of the crossover, and whether they see potential in it; I have most of the plot fairly sketched out, but it took a surprising amount of time to write just under 700 words, and the action hasn't even started yet. So if you would like more — or wouldn't mind sharing your first impressions — please review!_


	2. Orientation

_Overwhelmed,_ thought Billy. _That's probably the best word for how I feel right now: totally overwhelmed._

It was only three days since he had arrived in Boston. His mother had insisted upon staying for the first night: "To help you settle in," she claimed. After a two-hour shopping trip the next day — for essentials, again at her insistence — he finally persuaded her to drive back to New York so he could _actually_ try to get settled. Of course, the waiting only made him more apprehensive, and his last day of luxurious freedom passed by in a dizzying blur as he greeted some of the other excited students who would be living on his floor. Today, at last, the freshman orientation schedule began in earnest, and the caterpillars in his stomach took this opportunity to finish pupating. He was now midway through the first item on the packed itinerary: a grand tour of his new campus.

"…And this is the famous 'Infinite Corridor,'" announced their tour guide. "At just under a sixth of a mile long, the name is something of an exaggeration — I can already tell which of you are going to major in Maths by your pained expressions." The lanky senior grinned, and was rewarded with nervous laughter. "We're heading for the Great Dome now, so I hope you all packed your walking boots."

Billy tried to laugh appreciatively, but some of the butterflies were exploring his oesophagus and only a strangled croak escaped. _For God's sake, at least breathe normally!_ he chastened himself as blood warmed his pale cheeks. _Maybe no one noticed…_ he hoped, but to no avail: a girl, her hair black like Billy's, turned in his direction and smiled sympathetically. Abashed, he exchanged a lopsided grimace, quickly breaking eye contact and returning his attention to their guide, who was now marching them briskly down the corridor as he recounted an anecdote about some scatterbrained mathematician.

His mind wandered. The best thing about college so far, he reflected, was the students. Back in high school, assault was called "bullying" or "horseplay," responsibility was a big word that adults used to browbeat you into doing unpleasant things, and studying was the hallmark of an absent life. Here, however, enthusiasm practically fizzed in the air; everyone was eager to make new friends, and just about any situation would spontaneously develop into a conversation about what major you were choosing, where you came from and which dorm you'd be staying in. No one was weighing him up with a view to making him relinquish his lunch money; heck, he wouldn't be surprised if half the people here had been stuffed into a locker at least once in their lives. Looking around, the few people who weren't glancing around exchanging nervous smiles were affecting an air of detached coolness, and for the most part failing badly.

Caught up in this pleasant reverie, Billy failed to notice that the group had stopped and collided inelegantly into the padded back of a tall boy in front of him. Perturbed, the stranger turned to look at Billy, who instinctively took a step back and lowered his head — the way he did in high school, when he wanted to disappear. Quickly checking himself, he looked up again and apologised in the most affable tone he could muster.

To Billy's surprise the boy smiled down at him. "No problem," he said in low voice, "no harm done. Are you OK?" he asked suddenly, his eyes widening slightly in apparent concern.

"Um, yeah, I guess," said Billy, caught off-guard. The boy looked so much like one of the jocks who had hitherto been the bane of his existence that it was somewhat disconcerting to be addressed like a normal human being. Emboldened, he continued. "I mean, it was me who try to mow you down first!" He grinned despite his internal fluttering, and was met with a wider smile.

"Looks like I'm not the only one in a world of my own," came a voice from his side. It was the black-haired girl, and this time her expression was mildly sardonic. She hesitated for a second, then extended a hand towards him. "I'm Kate, by the way. What's your name?"

"Billy," he said automatically, grasping her outstretched hand briefly (she had a strong grip, he noticed). He glanced back up at the new boy, who was now regarding him with interest.

"Billy…?" He trailed off, blue eyes staring directly into Billy's dark brown.

"Billy… Kaplan," he finished. Something about the way the boy was looking at him made him feel uncomfortable; it had the sort of intensity that a cat might reserve for a mouse as it prepared to pounce. He nearly took another step back, but he caught himself.

"Cool," said the girl. " And how about you?" She turned to face the taller boy.

His concentration lingered on Billy for another moment before he looked round to smile at Kate. "My name is Teddy," he said. "It's nice to meet you both, Kate, Billy," he said, emphasizing the last name very slightly. Abruptly, he turned back to face their guide, who was beckoning for them to follow him outside.

Billy shot a glance at Kate who raised her eyebrows slightly, prompting another bemused smile from him. Both started walking with the rest of the crowd, blinking slightly as their eyes adjusted to the midday sun and took in the vast, verdant green of Killian Court. Contemplating this, Billy forgot all about Teddy and his strange behaviour and instead concerned himself with how nice it would be to spend the rest of the afternoon lay out on that soft grass with a book and a cold drink. "At this point in the orientation," explained their guide, "it's traditional to stop for a group photograph. So if you would all like to arrange yourselves on the steps facing the grass, we have a camera ready to capture this moment for posterity. Remember to smile for your parents!" With that, the young man deftly led the way down the cool, grey steps.

Kate looked over at Billy. "Want to sit next to me for the photo?"

"Sure, I'd love to." Billy beamed, and together they picked their way through the thronging crowd to find a good spot.

o—O—o

Teddy observed impassively, calmly taking in the scene as students milled around in front of him. Stoically, he watched Billy and Kate walk past him, making sure Billy did not stray out of sight as they descended the steps. Finally, the two chose a place to sit; Teddy quickly seated himself behind them, eyes fixed on Billy's jet-black hair. Now that he had found William, it was time to proceed with his primary objective.

* * *

_Sorry it took me so long to get round to this chapter; I've been very busy recently, although I should have time to write the third chapter some time next week. I'd really appreciate any suggestions about my prose, which I can't help feeling is a little clumsy or overwrought in places. Also, since it's a crossover, I'm aware that it treads a fine line between fidelity and invention — it would be nice to know how readers think I'm handling it! At any rate: whether or not you leave a review, I hope you enjoyed reading it and are looking forward to the next instalment. _


End file.
